Through the Red Door

In the early days of the Church, when the front door of the parish was painted red it was said to signify sanctuary – that the ground beyond these doors was holy, and anyone who entered through them was safe from harm.

In the lives of many recovering people, it is through these same red doors that sanctuary is found on a daily basis. Initially that sanctuary may not have started in the rooms with high vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows, but in the basements and back rooms of churches where 12-step meetings are held.

This blog was created for recovering people to share the experiences they found walking through those doors of safety, refuge and peace.

Living into the Mystery of turning my will and my life over to a Higher Power

A new person in Recovery asked me recently: " How do I turn my will and my life over to a Higher Power that I cannot see? that I do not know? that I do not trust? This action step is just too much for me. Why is it one of the suggested steps? Maybe it works for yon and a lot of the others, but it will not work for me. Why do you all say it's important to do this when my problem is with alcohol? I am not coming to you with a religious problems. Not even with philosophical questions about life and the meaning of it. I have a problem with alcohol. That, I can admit. That I can see. What does that have to do with a 'power greater than myself?'"

These questions were thoughtfully posed. She really did want to know. She was not arguing with me. She was confused, as most of us are when we first arrive in Recovery with an alcohol problem showing up in our lives. In our homes and work. In our social life and relationships. In our memories that we wish we did not have. In our memories that we do not have that others tell us about (which happen during what are commonly called "black outs".)

But why the focus on finding a Higher Power? Why the focus on letting go and giving up everything to that Higher Power?

I shared with her that when I first came into Recovery, I asked the same questions. I, too, thought that the problem was all about alcohol. And the importance I had placed on it. Maybe the fact that I could not control it. Maybe the fact that it had caused problems in my life that I could never have foreseen or imagined. I had faith. My faith was actually very strong and the fact that I had still had problems with alcohol was confounding to me.

I lived with a lot of shame about that. I drank with a lot of shame about that. I even asked for help through that cloud of not accepting myself.

After some time, I told her, I realized that I had been surrendering to a liquid in a bottle. I had truly "lived into the mystery" of not knowing what would happen when I drank. In every sense of the words, I had turned my will and my life over to that liquid. Even though it had let me down over and over. Even though it had brought inconceivable problems into my life. Even though I had prayed time and again that I would not drink too much or hurt my family again or end up in problems at work or in my relationships, I turned my life and my will over to a higher power, a liquid in a bottle. It caused untold problems. It hurt everyone I loved. Deeply. And yet, I still "lived into the mystery" of letting go and hoping that maybe I could control it this time.

Now, I choose to turn my life and my will over to a power greater than myself which helps me to stay sober each day. That power assists me with strength, healing, and hope for new relationships which are healthy. My Higher Power has brought reconciliation to many of those I damaged so deeply when I gave myself up to that liquid.

Now, I "live into the mystery" of surrendering to a power greater than myself who heals and redeems and reconciles and makes new everything that I truly let go of. And that, indeed, is a mystery I like living into. Each day I choose this mystery anew rather than returning to the other mystery.

To further explore what it means to "live into the mystery", I am looking forward to attending the annual conference sponsored by Recovery Ministries of the Episcopal Church which will be held April 4-5, 2013 in San Antonio, Texas. I am certain that the theme of the two day conference, "Carrying the Blessing", will assist me in my spiritual growth in Recovery. The workshops will assist me in being able to discover and express even more fully how I live into the mystery of Recovery. To focus on carrying the blessings of Recovery to others. To help others put down that liquid for a Higher Power that will give them growth and healing. And the blessings of sobriety. To learn from others how they let go, and live into the mystery.

and then, just make reservations. Make plans! Carry the Blessing in new ways as a result of attending this conference. And bring someone with you who is new in Recovery. Who is still wondering about their Higher Power. About living into the mystery.

I have been wanting to add to the Recovery blog for some time. My story is too long to give today, but during this Holiday Season of 2012-2013, I am encouraged in my soul. First, I am staying sober. Second I cancelled a planned trip to the Benectine Monastery I am affiliated with by way of being a comitted obate.Both are the right thing for me. Sobriety is a gift which lets me live more normally than not. My private retreat at Conception Abbey was cancelled by me because my 92 year old just got sick. Only with God's grace am I able to do the right thing. May Jesus renew us this season. (Anonymous)

A basic question that is frequently asked is how do we establish a responsible policy on alcohol use at diocesan/parish events. Some dioceses have formal policies others do not. We would like to provide the template for a policy that could be easily adopted by dioceses and parishes. A new wrinkle that will need some thought is the consequences of the new stance on marijuana use in Colorado and Washington.

In addition a corollary question has to do with ideas for fun beverages that can be served as alternatives when alcohol is served. So, thinking that you all must have some wonderful recipes to share. If you have a recipe you would like to share, please send it along.

Please share your experiences, thoughts, policies and recipes here! In the near future, we hope to integrate this all into a new R.M resource.

During Lent at my home parish, we host a well known Lenten Preaching Series featuring inspiring and diverse speakers from many different faith paths. We also, for the past 89 years, have hosted what we fondly refer to as The Waffle Shop.

The Waffle Shop is a unique, mostly volunteer, full service restaurant located in the basement of Calvary Church. It’s a place where we feed people’s hunger for good southern food - before, during and after we attempt to feed their spirits in the sanctuary with preaching. The haute southern cuisine is highlighted with items like tomato aspic, waffles and chicken hash and the most famous - fish pudding – something you have to experience to understand. For me it’s a time of seeking and celebration and often renewal that I don’t participate in during other times of the year.

I work in downtown Memphis and on the days that I can slip out of my office and walk over to the service and eat lunch the stresses of my everyday life tend to slip away and I am transported to the place of sanctuary that often eludes me during a work day.

Another thing that takes place every weekday during lent is a recovery meeting at noon in the same basement. The meeting has been going on for many years and although I am not a member of that group I often wonder what it feels like for them during lent. Are they excited like me to get to eat the annual treats or does it feel like they are being pushed aside for the pomp and pageantry and crowds that often accompany visits by nationally known speakers and preachers?

I’m not sure that I have an answer to that question, but I do know that when I went to The Waffle Shop for the first time this year, I found it curious that on the back entrance of the church was a sign posted that read, “The entrance to AA is now on Adams Street due to Waffle Shop”. If you’re not familiar with Memphis or Calvary, the Adams Street entrance is a side door. It’s actually a beautiful red side door that is normally locked during other times of the year but it has a more direct access to the AA room. The relocation to the side door entrance is simply logistics and has been that way for many years during lent, I’m sure, but still I found it curious.

Many of the men and women who come to that meeting are our neighbors. They could be parishioners or members of the downtown homeless population, or from treatment centers, or even just out of the jail two blocks away. They are often times hurting and seeking refuge, the people that Jesus may have called the “least of these.” During other times of the year the church is quiet at noon and relatively empty, but for these 40 or so days we invadetheirspace. We fill it with downtown business people and the ladies who lunch and clattering dishes and smells of baked spaghetti and rye bread.

I do trust that God smiles on both of us, on the recovery meeting and on The Waffle Shop and preaching series, but today, I want to say thank you to the men and women of that meeting who welcome us intotheirspace,theirbasement. I want to remember that for me, the spirituality and the love and the acceptance I feel upstairs in the Nave and over in The Waffle Shop would not be possible without the meetings through the side doors that helped open my heart spiritually.

This article was written by Member Donna Gaines who graciously gave us permission to post this article with originally appeared in The Anglican: A Journal of Anglican Identity

Volume 37, Number 1, pp 12-16

Winter 2008

A clean and sober Anglican Priest once said, “Every addict fights the devil every day to keep his soul.” While we are no strangers to hell, we are also living proof of God’s graceundefinedundeserved, unearned, and uncalled. For anyone in Twelve-Step recovery, living clean, sober, or abstinent one day at a time is a miracle. Addiction is a spiritual, mental, physical and emotional disease. It has no cure. Having survived hopeless misery, isolation and desperation, people in recovery have witnessed God’s mercy first-hand. Regardless of how we understand God, we come to believe that no human power could have relieved our suffering, but that God could and would if he were sought.

Mine had been a lifetime of alienation, self-loathing, fear and cross-addiction. My spiritual journey has taken me from an unhappy suburban childhood, through a troubled, delinquent youth on the streets of Rockaway Beach, Queens--speed addiction, glue-sniffing, food, sex, work and alcohol binges---to a place of completeness and joy. Faith is non-linear, process-oriented and mysterious. So is recovery. For a long time, I figured it was serendipity. Eventually, I understood it as grace.

My name is Donna and I am a sociologist. In the beginning, Twelve Step recovery promised me a life beyond my wildest dreams. At first, I imagined the cash and prizes; fame, fortune, True Love, a big house, and new toys. But I already had some of those things when I bottomed out and I was still miserable. It seems God had a very different plan for me. I became an Episcopalian. The more diligently I sought through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact with God as I understood him, the closer I moved towards the Anglican Communion.

Most people who surrender to Twelve Step recovery midlife don’t convert to Christianity, and even fewer become Episcopalians. Given my background, Buddhism’s Eightfold Path and Four Noble Truths would have seemed the more logical choice. But eleven years later, here I am living a completely different life. For an urban bohemian, a former yeshiva girl, a tattooed, gun-toting woman of letters with a rock & roll heart, that’s a life beyond my wildest dreams. I had no plan, I just followed my instincts and they brought me here. Only afterwards did I realize that an Episcopal Priest, Father Sam Shoemaker, former Rector of Calvary Parish Church in New York City was the critical link between my two spiritual communities.

Alcoholics Anonymous, a world-wide self help movement with over two million members was founded in Akron, Ohio in 1935 by a stockbroker named Bill Wilson and a physician, Dr. Bob Smith. Since then, the seminal Twelve Step program of recovery has been adapted to address an exhaustive list of compulsive behaviors and addictionsundefinedeverything from cocaine to cluttering, codependency and over-eating. The intellectual and cultural history of Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous is a complex web of affiliations, interdisciplinary, it integrates knowledge from medical science, psychology, philosophy and theology.

Bill Wilson had credited another physician, Dr. William “Silky” Silkworth, with defining alcoholism as a disease, not a moral failing. Step One requires admitting complete powerlessness over this substanceundefinedas with any allergy. Recovery offered a daily reprieve, not a cure. Medical science had no answers or solutions for this disease. Wilson attributed Step Two,the belief that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity,to William James and Carl Jung. This was not a religious conceptundefinedit was grounded in philosophy, psychology and psychiatry.

In 1902, in The Varieties of Religious Experience, James famously suggested “The only cure for dipsomania is religiomania.” Jung echoed this in 1961, in a series of now-famous correspondences with Wilson regarding a hopeless drunk named Rowland H. Jung speculated the craving for alcohol was a “low level” expression of the spiritual thirst for wholeness---one that could only be satisfied by union with God. Spiritus contra spiritum, Jung noted, the Latin term for alcohol is "spiritus." The highest religious experience and the most depraving poison were inextricably bound up in the human psyche.

Bill Wilson attributed the remaining Steps to Father Shoemaker and the Oxford Group. Shoemaker became the Rector of Calvary Parish Church in New York City in 1924. There, he ran the Calvary House, headquarters for both the Calvary Mission and the Oxford Group, an evangelical movement that aggressively promoted universal spiritual principles. Today, the room that once hosted the Oxford Group at Calvary hosts Twelve Step meetings.

In Courage to Change, A.A. historians Bill Pittman and Dick B. trace the Christian roots of A.A. specifically to Shoemaker, who was not himself an alcoholic. Prior to the founding of Alcoholics Anonymous, both Wilson and Dr. Smith had sought rehabilitation at Calvary Mission. In 1955, at AA’s 2nd International Convention in St. Lewis, Wilson formally introduced Shoemaker. Although others had a hand in the sauce, Wilson publicly acknowledged Shoemaker’s contribution, “It is through Sam Shoemaker that most of AA’s Spiritual Principles have come.” By 1963, in a personal letter to Shoemaker, Wilson specifically conferred co-founder status.

Wilson also claimed A.A.’s practice of self-examination, the acknowledgement of character defects, the act of making restitution for harm done, and the ideal of service came from “the Oxford Group and directly from Sam Shoemaker, their former leader in America.” Even Wilson’s now-famous “hot flash” white light hospital room conversion--- the episode that ended his drinking career forever---was attributed to Wilson’s foundational experiences with the Oxford Group and Father Shoemaker at Calvary Mission.

At the time of publication of Alcoholics Anonymous, in 1939, A.A. was not affiliated with the Oxford Group. Still, the groundbreaking ‘big book’ of the Twelve Step recovery movement encouraged members to make good use of religious teachings. In Appendix V, “The Religious View on A.A.,” the anonymous authors included praise from a Roman Catholic priest and from the Episcopal magazine, The Living Church. Ever careful not to alienate skittish newcomers in recovery from bad (dysfunction) religion---those unfortunate souls stained by punitive socialization experiences, refugees from warped God concepts---the founders specifically excluded any mention of the bible, the Oxford Group or Jesus Christ from Alcoholics Anonymous.

By design and intention, the A.A. concept of a Higher Power affords members maximum autonomy and creativity in conceptualizing the Divine. This inner process of self-discovery is highly individualistic, encouraging experimentation and whole-hearted seeking, suggesting “Take what you need and leave the rest.” According to an Episcopal priest, the Reverend Dr. J. Christopher King, “A Higher Power is our best working definition of God at any given time.” This is a flexible construct, suggesting gradual reliance upon a power greater than ourselves---a God of our own understanding. Developing a relationship with a Higher Power is an innovative enterprise. No dogma, no rules, no pressure, only gentle suggestions.

Basically, a Higher Power can be anything or anyoneundefinedas long as it isn’t you. And you don’t even have to call it God. It can be a turtle, a tree, a Harley Davidson, Aphrodite, Joey Ramone, the planet Jupiter or the power of the collective---the fellowship itself. A Higher Power can also be the ideal of social justice, liberty or universal love. The hope invested in a child, or in generations rising. Based on universal principles such as forgiveness, love and selfless service, right action, surrender, and personal responsibility, the program is compatible with almost any religious or spiritual tradition. The Twelve Step recovery movement is spiritual, but not religious.

In 1955 Shoemaker also addressed the convention in St. Lewis. Though he had inspired the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, looking out on a congregation of thousands of sober A.A.’s and their families, he remarked, “As I lived and moved among these men and women for three days, I was moved as I have seldom been moved in my life.” He witnessed alcoholics deeply engaged in bloody,

messy, daily life and death battles against the bottle---all shapes and sizes, rich and poor, young and old, of every color, of any faith. Strangers, pulling each other up from drowning, like true fishers of men and women. In these anonymous alcoholics Shoemaker discerned the passion of the First Century. He saw

people fully engaged, completely present and committed to loving God and neighbor in the most profoundly personal way. Shoemaker hoped to bring some of that back into the institutional church, in effect, to reclaim the healing ministry of Jesus. As Wilson himself once remarked, “The church is not a museum, it’s a hospital.”

In “What the Church Has to Learn from Alcoholics Anonymous,” Shoemaker outlined five points. First, “Nobody gets anywhere until he recognizes a clearly defined need.” Addiction can rob us of everything---family, job, home, and dignity. Bottoming out is what makes us willing. Willingness becomes the foundation of trust and faith. The choice is very clear---life and death.

As Shoemaker observed, alcoholics are desperate to get well---not just a little bit better--- but all the way. As Shoemaker explained, “AA's each and all have a definite, desperate need. They have the need, and they are ready to tell somebody what it is if they see the least chance that it can be met.”He asked, “Is there anything as definite for you or me, who may happen not to be alcoholics? If there is, I am sure that it lies in the realm of our conscious withholding of the truth about ourselves from God and from one another, by pretending that we are already good Christians.” Shoemaker noted, “There were no good Christians in the first Church.” Everyone was a sinner in the beginning.

We too, come to our church because we need. We may come feeling lonely, confused, empty or afraid. We may come longing for God, seeking affirmation, acceptance and meaning. We may come seeking connection and community; a sacred space to praise God joyfully. The body of Christ is the body social. Are we committed to standing together in life-altering fellowship or are we just showing up Sunday morning for small talk, coffee and cake? Are walking the walk or just talking the talk? Are we passively waiting for transformation to happen to us or are we desperate for it? Are we taking full responsibility for our salvation or do we expect our clergy to do it for us? In church, as in recovery, half measures avail us nothing.

Secondly, Shoemaker wanted to remind the church that transformation occurs in the context of community---that people are redeemed in life-changing fellowship. Ongoing transformation is the essence of spiritual growth, and also the goal of recovery. But without a compelling, overwhelming need to change, we humans usually won’t. People in Twelve Step recovery actively work to strip away everything that separates us from ourselves, each other and God. We reflect on our shortcomings and humbly ask God to remove them so that we might better know and serve His will. We regularly depend upon each other and God for help. We speak our truth openly, on a daily basis, face to face. Fear and shame evaporate along with the mental obsession to drink, gamble, or drug. We can see ourselves and each other being redeemed on a daily basisundefinedit’s not a promise, it’s a fact.

Observing the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous, Shoemaker noticed that even the newcomer had something valuable to offerundefinedhis or her own experience, strength and hope. The drunk with two days of continuous sobriety is a powerful example for the shattered soul walking through the door. In Step Twelve, we acknowledge that we have had a spiritual awakening as a result of working the Steps. This is an evangelical call to practice program principles in all human affairs, and to “carry the message” to others who may be sick and suffering. In The Wounded Healer, Henri Nouwen urged us to make use of our brokenness in ministry, to use it creatively and purposefully. But, as Shoemaker lamented, “Today the last place we feel we can be candid is in the church.” He reminds us that in the First Century, transformation was expected. Nobody did it alone.

Thirdly, was the necessity for definite personal dealing with people. Shoemaker questions, have we ever been “drastically dealt with.”? How real are we willing to be with each other? Are we challenged by ourselves and each other to grow on a daily basis? Willing to bear our souls in “fearless moral inventory”? Can we share what’s in our hearts openly, confiding fears, sorrows and hopes? Can we say, “I

feel I’m not good enough for God,” or “I’m afraid I’ll never be whole”? Being a “polite” or “nice” or even “helpful” parishioner is not the same as standing together in true fellowship---without fear of ridicule, gossip, judgment or shame. Sobriety depends upon unity, so does salvation.

Fourth, Shoemaker understood the necessity for a real change of heart, a true conversion. An Anglican view of conversion is a gradual and lifelong spiritual awakening. According to Reverend Bill Tully, Rector of St. Bartholomew’s Church in New York City, “Christians are in continuous conversion.” So are alcoholics and addicts. Recovery is an ongoing process that transforms us on a daily basis. When I surrendered to Twelve Step recovery, I understood I would have to change everything. I also knew I wouldn’t have to do alone. I understood this change would happen in God’s time, not mine. And that I had to meet God half way.

Finally, Father Shoemaker believed, “One of the greatest things the church should learn from A.A. is the need people have for exposure to living Christian experience.” As Shoemaker noted, “In thousands of places, alcoholics (and others) can go and hear recovered alcoholics speak about their experiences and watch the process of new life and take place before their eyes. There you have it, the need and the answer to the need, right before your eyes.”But even if we were willing to follow Shoemaker’s advice, how would we actually do it? As he observed, the structure of churches---services, bible study groups, forums, workshops, even retreats---often lack the intimacy and continuity needed to for such sustained, raw exposure. But few societal institutions now exist where people can be consistently open, honest and true with each other. Cyberspace communities allow us to do it anonymously, safe behind a screen. In the family, at school, work or church, we may rarely get to express what we truly think, want, and need. Can we even talk to God in our own voice? It’s our most intimate connection, but too often, we can’t remember the language.

Shoemaker suggested parishioners organize into small, informal groups to share our ongoing personal experience of life in Christ---how do we live and breathe our faith in the sacred and mundane? Many churches have recognized this need---to practice our faith as desperately, fearlessly, and honestly as a drunk drowning in a river of Gin. But Shoemaker wanted to see much more of it. "Would that the Church were like this----ordinary men and women with great need who have found a great Answer, and do not hesitate to make it known wherever they can--a trained army of enthusiastic, humble, human workers whose efforts make life a different thing for other people!" This was Shoemaker’s hope and his prayer.

On September 28, 2002, I was baptized in a triple immersion sacrament, by a sober Anglican Priest in Gardiner’s Bay, East Hampton, New York. I was surrounded by fourteen sober friends, some Christian, some not. This baptism outwardly expressed what I'd experienced inwardly some months prior; the unquestionable presence of Jesus Christ in my heart. Experiencing God’s great love has repaired a damaged childhood, soothed the longing for a father I had never known---he died when I was a month old. Nothing else could have healed that gaping hole, the aching emptiness of an early rupture and abandonment. Lord knows, I tried everything.

But I still hated organized religion. I viewed it with skepticism, understood it as a repressive institution; patriarchal, sexist, homophobic, and racist. What I knew of the institutional church seemed antithetical to this awesome, loving, healing God of my understanding. So I considered myself a “Surfy Christian” and for two years I prayed in the ocean, while dancing, even on the New York City subway---anywhere but in a church. I made up my own prayers, bodysurfing to the rhythm of the waves, chanting repetitions of my own version of the Jesus Prayer, “I surrender myself, body spirit and soul to the Lord, in Jesus Christ, Amen.”

One day, back in New York City, I really needed to talk to God and it was a cold outside so I ducked inside St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church. Funky, elegant, huge yet homey, this landmark Park Avenue church with a membership of several thousand had probably seen better days. I didn’t even know what kind of church it was, but I loved the architecture and the music. I was overjoyed, tearing up at the sight of women officiating as Priests and Bishops. The multi-cultural face of the congregation looked like my America, like my vision of heaven--young and old, rich and poor, hipster and square, all definitions of family, rising up together as one.

I started by just showing up at the Sunday evening “Come as you are” Eucharist. I was greeted with a radical welcome, treated as a child of God, even though I wasn’t technically yet “one of them.” Nobody cared what I was wearing or where I came from. They cherished the Jewish roots of Jesus---the faith of my fathers. “The communion table is open,” declared the officiant, Father Bill Tully, and I was encouraged to partake. “These gifts belong to God, not the church.” The innovator of the controversial open communion table, Tully views this as a form of “spiritual evangelism,” a way of drawing in and including all.

All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ, for he himself will say: ‘ I was a stranger and you welcomed me’.When I was sick and half crazy, lost in my addictions, the anonymous people I met in Twelve Step recovery promised, “We will love you until you love yourself,” and that promise was kept. When I came to the Episcopal Church as a stranger, you also welcomed me. But it was the election of Bishop V. Gene Robinson of New Hampshire that finally convinced me to become an Episcopalian. It my proof that God’s love was still alive in the church. And so, two years after my baptism, I joined St. Bart’s and was confirmed. I currently serve in lay ministry.

When a Roman friend asked about my Episcopal Church I explained, “Well, were Anglican, Catholic and also Protestant. We don’t have a Pope, but we take Holy Communion and make group confession. We are taught that God loves really us, that we are pleasing to Him just as we are. We believe He came to live among us to know us better. We ordain women, and our clergy can marry. Same sex couples are welcome in our congregation. And even when we disagree passionately, we still try to love each other and walk on higher ground.”

Today I surf a seamless highway, a continuous loop between the Episcopal Church and Twelve Step recovery. I learn in both traditions that wisdom can be distilled from the daily as well as texts and traditions. Both travel the Via Media, balancing between the old and new. Each embraces the newcomer--the ultimate prodigal child--as precious. And full reconciliation is sought through a sustaining, relational approach to God, self and neighbor. Both traditions believe God talks to us through other people. “God incarnated in us,” explains Tully, “We function by virtue of our relationship to each other. We are responsible for each of us.” This too, is a tenet of recovery.

Shoemaker’s critique was universal; he was not addressing fellow Episcopalians, he was speaking to a congregation of anonymous alcoholics at a conventionundefinedmen and women representing all faiths, sects, denominations, and traditions. His was a message that applies to all religious institutions. And, like the good book and the big book, it remains timeless. For the founders of Alcoholics Anonymous, Christianity came first---specifically through Father Shoemaker and the Episcopal Church. For me, it was the other way around. I came up from a church basement on a stairway to heaven. It’s been said that the longest journey we’ll ever take is 18 inches; that’s the distance from the head to the heart. On that journey we learn to speak in the language of the heart---that’s the language of recovery, and of the Gospel.

*Dr. Donna Gaines (www.donnagaines.com) is the author of Teenage Wasteland: Suburbia’s Dead End Kids, and A Misfit’s Manifesto: The Sociological Memoir of a Rock & Roll Heart. An elected member of the Guild of Scholars of the Episcopal Church, Donna is a member of the Magnolia Institute, a recovery ministry at St. James of Jerusalem Episcopal Church in Long Beach, N.Y. where she also serves on the vestry.

A couple of year’s back I was completing a presentation for one of my classes in my Master’s program at seminary on the Connection of the Church and the 12-Step Program. In the research, really concentrated on Fr. Samuel Shoemaker when I ran across a poem he wrot, I STAND BY THE DOOR . I can really relate to “standing by the door” to help those who are struggling to find their way to God and recovery. So I stand by the door to help the addict/alcoholic and their families a way into the door.

This is important for me, my calling. January 27, 1991 is my sober birthday and it was after surviving a near death experience in Desert Storm that I received, but not totally understanding, my calling. It was a long, cold, lonely night. There was a call for an emergency launch of our aircraft. A bomb threat was made on the base and the hanger. Get all aircraft and flight personal out of the hangers and into the air. After the last bird launched, I collapsed on the runway with searing pain in my chest. A long, cold, lonely night in Bitburg Germany, my first husband was with me – a strand relationship - and my children were safe back in Houston Texas. Up to this point in time, I wanted God to take me home for I did not want to live anymore – cold. I had my “spiritual awakening” that night and fought to live for I made a commitment to my daughter to come home from this war.

When I came home, my life has and was going to change for God has given me a second chance to do His work and not my own self-destruction. I got a divorce from my first husband. God sent people into my life to help me through troubled times and to keep me inside HIS love and grace. There were few people standing by the door to help me on to my recovery and to realize the full depth of God’s love.

My calling today is to help those persons and families during difficult times of getting and receiving help for their addiction. I am an addictions counselor and currently fulfilling the requirements of family counseling. I currently work in a prison in Wyoming to counsel those who suffer from drugs and/or alcohol but they are spiritually bankrupt also. To help those men to see their way along the wall to the door handle to God’s grace and love. It is not always easy or successful but if one makes it then it is well worth standing by the door.

The other part of the calling is to make myself known in the parish and diocese of who I am and what my calling is about. I teach groups like Stephen Ministry what addiction looks like and how to address – it is beyond them. In the past I have had informational booths at council to help the clergy and laity identify addiction issues. I have also had booths at professional conferences to show the counselors and other professionals we are all about recovery. Then there are individual phone calls for help – “my son (daughter) needs help….” “my mother (father) needs help…” “my husband (wife) needs help…” I have sent letters to the church to advocate for recovery and help. I have helped on retreats and brought those from shelters to retreats for spiritual awakening.

My life is ever evolving – progress not perfection – in recovery. My life is so fulfilling now than it has ever been before. By the grace of God I have recovery and only by the grace of God I am alive today to do his work.

Blog: “a Web site that contains an online personal journal with reflections, comments, and often hyperlinks provided by the writer;also:the contents of such a site.” This is the official definition as printed in the Merriam Webster dictionary. It is our hope that this blog will be more than a place to simply record personal reflections and comments but rather that it will serve the function of being a town square for the recovery community to freely exchange ideas about the spiritual nature of the disease of addiction and the path of recovery. In writing this first entry, I would like to begin to explore some of the basics, as I understand them about the spiritual nature of addiction and recovery.

Adefinition of addiction that I like to use comes from Craig Nakken's book, The Addictive Personality. He defines addiction as "A pathological relationship of love and trust with an object or an event." In this relationship, choice changes to compulsion and the relationship with the object replaces people. Addiction is a complex disease. It has genetic; biochemical; psychological; social and SPIRITUAL components. However, the SPIRITUAL component is always part of the disease and recovery - if addiction does not start out of a spiritual deficiency /disease it quickly becomes one. Addiction is a deadly disease that attacks the very core/essence of who we are. In other words, it attacks our spirit. This disease has a major impact on spiritual life through attacking the relationships between self, others and God. Consequently, restoring a healthy spiritual life is critical to the recovery from the disease. Bill W. understood this when he was constructing A.A. “after a while we had to face the fact that we must find a spiritual basis of life – or else.” (The Big Book pg 44) The Twelve12 steps are a spiritual journey.

The gospel of Matthew notes that after Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan River, “he was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.”Matthew 4:1In the gospel of Mark, the word is not “led” it is “driven.” It certainly does not sound like Jesus freely and easily decided to go to the desert. Rather it took a force to lead him out into the harsh desert wilderness. A wilderness of extreme heat during the day and bone chilling cold at night; a wilderness of parched land and dried up scrubs; a wilderness of flat open space, dry, brown-yellow hills, and craggy cliffs; a wilderness of vast open sky; a wilderness of snakes, scorpions, and wild beasts; a wilderness with little comfort and no companionship. Jesus was led out into this environment for 40 days and nights.

We might imagine that when Jesus embarked on this journey of prayer and fasting that he was hale and hearty. He emerged from the Jordan’s cool baptismal waters full of life, full of the Spirit and with a strong sense of purpose. However, as we are told in Matthew’s account of this desert experience, Jesus ate nothing for forty days. Near the end of that time, he was likely famished, dehydrated, and exhausted. Isn’t it at such times in our own lives when addiction rears its head looking to be fed. The solitude becomes isolation and at those times the wolves come calling. You all know the saying, which I amend slightly, “When you are in recovery your addiction is doing push ups so it can slap you in the face next chance it gets.” Being spiritually famished, withdrawing into isolation presents just such an opportunity for the addictions to show their muscle once again.

I am sure that during his time of famine, Jesus was very skilled at praying and meditating. However, he was also most likely very lonely and troubled by memories of food, cool water, friends, and family as he tried to meditate and pray the Psalms again and again. When Jesus was in his most spent physical and emotional state, we are told, that Satan came knocking. He was “tempted by Satan.” Actually, the experience was worse than that sounds. The Greek word in the bible that we usually translate as “tempted” is better translated as “tested” or “put to trial.” To be tested sounds a lot harder than to be tempted. Moreover, Jesus was tested and challenged by a formidable foe – evil itself had come to pay a visit.

Another name for evil is addiction. Like the devil challenged Jesus, it challenges all of us to abandon lives of recovery for a life of full of quick gratification, power, luxury, and greed. We are called by evil to focus only on our own needs, our own comfort. Like us, the body of Jesus at this time, in all of its frail humanity, must have been crying out for relief. A relief that he could all too easily have acquired if only he were to turn away from God and toward evil. Nevertheless, Jesus summoned up the courage and strength to dispel the seduction of comfort. He courageously put his trust in God, his father. He refused to worship any other idol even that of self-gratification. And with that, “the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.” Now, you may think ‘what is so remarkable about that – after all he is God.’ Well, yes, but we also know that Jesus fully took on humanity and lived and suffered like any one of us. The signs of his divinity were usually only seen in his service to others. In this trial, Jesus established who he is and what he is here for – through not succumbing to false callings, through not seizing power and enriching himself.

Like Jesus, I often find myself in the wilderness. I am sure all of you do too. Only for us, it is a spiritual wilderness of loneliness, emptiness and a yearning for meaning in a frantic world all too ready to focus on self-indulgence. It can be a wasteland of spiritual poverty. Unlike Jesus, we are not forced into this wilderness. Ours is a wilderness we create and we choose to live in. It is a wilderness often relieved by temporal pleasure and self-gratification. However, despite our willingness to enter this wilderness, if we are lucky, we find that in the end we are just not satisfied. Something is missing from our lives and gnawing at our spirits. We are hungry for relief from our financial miseries, hungry for a break from a world marked by war, hatred, and violence. All the while, the sirens of escape and addiction call out all around us trying to seduce us with false gods. Our sirens are not so unlike the sirens that tempted Ulysses so long ago. Today we are bombarded with constant messages that if we put our belief in this substance or that behavior we will be able to shut out the needful voices of war-ravaged lands, hungry children, homeless neighbors and our own souls crying out in agony.

How do we find out way out of this wasteland? How can we, like Jesus, strengthen our resolve and build up our spiritual will power to resist the forces of evil? I think we can begin as usual by studying Jesus’ practices. Throughout the gospels, we hear accounts of Jesus continually engaging in two acts that built up his spiritual resources. First, he focused on service to others through teaching, healing, comforting and when necessary challenging the oppressive power structures of the day. As Jesus himself stated, “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve.” Through service to others, Jesus was able to stay focused on his mission to bring mercy to the world even when it might have seemed hopeless or pointless. Twelve step programs call us to lives intimately connected with others. Through these steps we are encourage to share our burdens, to take steps to put spirituality back into our lives and to live lives of concern for others not just ourselves. Secondly, in numerous passages we hear about how Jesus took time for prayer. He entered into a state of solitude (not isolation) to listen for the still, quiet voice of God. He prayed as Paul recommends to us, “without ceasing.” I pray that each of you is able to create some time in your lives to slow down and talk to God. He is talking to us but we need to listen. I pray that you will each find some new way to give of yourselves in service to others for we, like Jesus, are created not to be served but to serve. I hope you will strengthen your commitment to Twelve Step spirituality. Let us all resolve to find a desert experience of growth and renewal with God so that we have strength in the times of trial. We need to help our spiritual selves do the necessary push-ups to stand up to the times of trial that will inevitably come. During his desert experience, Jesus learned he needed to let go and trust in God. We too need to engage in an act of trust with God, who with angels and archangels watches over us and guides us on our way home.